Give Peace a Chance

Dona nobis pacem. Give us peace. It's a phrase every Catholic is familiar with, even just in passing. Most people are accustomed to hearing about peace every week at Mass in the Agnus Dei, but nowhere else. That is only the most obvious example, because if you pay attention to the Bible, you know Jesus preaches about peace. If you listen to hymns, many of them devote lyrical space to peace. Even the Blessed Mother has a title devoted to peace (as in, Our Lady, Queen of Peace). Clearly this is an important aspect of our Catholic faith, but so many people don't seem to know it. I myself am a champion at not being peaceful. I can be boisterous, I can be active, and I'm great at worrying, but peace is something that eludes me rather often, and I notice that it seems to elude many others, as well. I'd like to outline a few reasons we should all be paying more attention to and striving after peace in our lives.

Reason #1: Peace is Scriptural. In the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus preaches specifically on having peace. Chapter 6, verses 25-34 are all about peace. Not peace with others, which is important, but peace within ourselves, which I believe is more important because if there is peace within people, it becomes easier for them to achieve peace with others. In particular, verse 34 says, "Do not worry about tomorrow; tomorrow will take care of itself. Sufficient for a day is its own evil." This advice is helpful both practically and spiritually, as we can no more affect our vocation, job prospects, or family life by worrying than we can the weather. Work one day at a time toward your desired end in accordance with God's will, and try not to worry. God knows what He has planned for you, and it will come along much more easily if you're at peace about it than if you worry yourself to pieces.

Reason #2: Peace is part of Tradition. Quick! Do you know what precedes the Sign of Peace in the Mass? It's five rapid-fire mentions of the word peace. We give peace to each other in the Mass, but how many of us bother to receive it? Paul exhorts us to greet each other with the kiss of peace, and Christians actually used to do it! Now we hardly want to give each other the Sign of Peace when we're told to, and although I understand the arguments against allowing the members of the congregation to give each other the Sign of Peace during the Mass, I find that for the most part, people who do actually give it are more at peace, or seem to be, anyway. If we've been conveying the peace of Christ to each other in some way for two millennia, why stop now? It must be important if it's lasted this long.

Reason #3: We're going to have to be at peace at some point. How many times have you worried about something, only to completely deflate when it was over? For me, that's pretty much every stressful thing I do, and I become utterly useless when I finish, neither allowing myself peace when I need it most, nor when I can actually enjoy it. Why do so many people seem to be afraid of being at peace? Why would we rather pull our hair out over things than handle them as the (mostly) relatively minor situations they are? I have no clue, but sooner or later, we're going to have to relax a little. Saint Augustine said that our hearts are restless until they rest in God, but even he acknowledges that our hearts have to rest at some point, even if it's only in heaven. Some day, each of us is going to have to be at peace, so why not cut ourselves a little slack now and practice?

Yes, I realize that saying this now is a little hypocritical, as I'm sitting on my friends' couch, surrounded by books, food, empty pizza boxes, and the clothes I changed out of earlier this morning, having just finished two ridiculous final assignments. However, I know that once Tuesday afternoon comes, I'll be able to relax just a little bit, take my time, and maybe even get in a little time for being peaceful. And I'll enjoy that. No running around, no worrying, just hanging out with my friends for a bit before finals. I'm looking forward to being at peace this week, even if I'll start to stress again next week. For now, the peace of Christ be with you. You could probably use it.

Victory in the Lord

Tonight I am more grateful for the love and mercy of God than I have ever been, save for the night of my reversion. In the words of Paul to the Romans, "For Christ, while we were still helpless, yet died at the appointed time for the ungodly. Indeed, only with difficulty does one die for a just person, though perhaps for a good person one might even find courage to die. But God proves His love for us in that while we were still sinners Christ died for us." Christ has once again proved that love for me, through His priests and the sacrament of Confession.

Late last summer, some of you might recall that I was afraid that I might be in a state of mortal sin because of a Sunday Mass I missed, though I was later able to ascertain that I was not. For the past few days I have not been so lucky. I realized at the healing Mass I attended tonight that I was in a state of mortal sin, and had been for a few days. Praise be to God, I had not received the Eucharist since committing the sin, and was therefore not guilty of sacrilege, but it was a small comfort to me. I was mortified to realize that I had the sin on my soul, and I didn't receive the Eucharist tonight. I cannot accurately express the state of panicked distress I was in throughout the rest of the Mass, which was longer than usual because of the healing part.

The priest our chaplain brought in to do the healing has been a friend of his for some years, and is renowned in the Archdiocese of Washington for his gift of healing. I find him to be a kind and engaging man, not to mention holy, but having gone to another healing Mass this semester, I didn't expect wonders when I went up to him for healing tonight. The catcher (so called because he was there to catch anyone who fell during the healing prayers) stood behind me, but I certainly didn't think I would need his assistance. I was incorrect in that assumption, for as the priest blessed me and prayed over me, I felt myself falling back as if I weighed nothing at all, and I collapsed momentarily into the catcher's arms. In an instant of remarkable clarity, I realized not only how grave the sin on my soul was (as are all mortal sins), but how absolutely, completely ashamed I was of myself for committing it.

I hadn't even reached my seat before I started to cry. I was so upset at myself for what I had done, and begged God to take me back in spite of the fact that it was I who had willingly separated myself from Him. I thanked Him in advance for doing so, because I know that in His infinite mercy, He always takes back the repentant sinner. In my head, I did the only thing I could then think to do: I shouted as loud as I could at Satan to get away from me. I tried my best to make it clear as crystal that I don't want anything to do with him. I know that sin is difficult to avoid, but I want nothing to do with the being whose one purpose is to tempt me to throw away my salvation for worthless, momentary pleasure. I'm worth more than that, and Christ has already shown me that a thousand times over.

I waited anxiously after the Mass ended for our chaplain to finish greeting people so that I could confess, and I couldn't help tearing up, so desirous was I to rid myself of the sin on my soul. One of my friends who had experienced a great deal of healing with the other priest at Lourdes over the summer recommended that I go to him, as it would likely be faster. I rushed back into the sacristy to find him, and thankfully he acquiesced when I asked him if he would hear my Confession. I walked out into the sanctuary with him, we sat, I confessed. I had barely begun to confess my sins when I began to cry, and my words came out in short gasps between breaths. After he gave me my penance and some advice for avoiding the sin in the future, he prayed over me again, and sent me on my way.

As I was thinking about writing this post, something hit me about the timing of this sin and Confession. They came right after I was introduced to Josh Turner, whose breakout hit was a song called "Long Black Train". The song is about a long black train which snatches up souls who persist in sin on its journey to hell. The devil drives it, and is constantly tempting people to turn from God for the fleeting pleasures of this world. However, Turner points out that we choose to board the long black train, and that we can turn from our sin just as quickly as we can turn to it. As the chorus goes, "There's victory in the Lord, I say,/ Victory in the Lord/ Cling to the Father and His Holy Name,/ And don't go riding on that long black train." Coincidentally, the advice I was given to avoid my sin in the future was to cling to God and to the Blessed Mother, and believe me, that is exactly what I intend to do. That is also my advice to anyone reading this post tonight. Confess your sins, amend your life, and cling to the Lord and His most Blessed Mother to keep you out of sin in the future. The whole court of heaven will help you, because it is not the Lord's will "that one of these little ones be lost."

I am most profoundly grateful to God that He has once again forgiven me mortal sin and taken me back like the prodigal I am. Tonight was about healing and the peace of the Lord, and I have received that more times than I can count from a more gracious God than anyone could possibly know. I know tomorrow will be a new day, and that sin will come knocking bright and early, as it always does when one is resolved to send it packing, but I am determined to reject it as often as I am tempted by it. In the wise words of Josh Turner, I will cling to the Father and His Holy Name, and not go riding on that long black train.

By the way, it's a pretty catchy song, so here it is for your spiritual and listening pleasure:

Country Music and Femininity

I always hated when kids in school wrote essays that started with, "Merriam Webster defines ______ as..." but that's how I'm starting this post. It'll get more fun than that, I promise. Merriam Webster defines "femininity" as "the quality or nature of the female sex". It's a rather ambiguous definition which leaves a lot open to interpretation, so I polled several of my friends to see how they defined femininity. Here are the responses I received:

• "vaginas...delicate...classy" (<-- He was distracted by watching a perfect game being pitched)
• "femininity is doing things in a manner that focuses on emotions and relations...or wearing dresses"
• "uhhhhhhhhhh...modesty. compassion. taking care of others. putting others before self. really cute (and modest) dresses and skirts."
• "most feminists aren't feminine. they want women to be exactly like men and act like them and do whatever they do. it's like they forget that the reason they're feminist is because men treated them like sh*t and were total buttfaces for hundreds and thousands of years. don't honor their behavior with emulation, if anything, we should make men more like WOMEN."
• "being feminine means that while I'm doing something better than a boy i can look better, too...and more gracefully"
• "Respecting yourself and everything being a woman comes with. And embracing it."

Clearly, my friends have very widely varying ideas on what it means to be feminine. Some focus on behavior, others appearance, attitude, sacrifice, abilities, or physical attributes. All of these are correct in some way, though all incomplete, as well. It's not just about one of these things or a few, but all of them. To be feminine, one must possess the appearance, attitude, attributes, abilities, and nature of the feminine. It's about wholeness, essentially.

I've decided to write about this now because for the past year or so I've been becoming more feminine in many ways. It became most clear to me this afternoon, as I was buying myself clothes for this summer. Typically I would have gone heavy on cute, flowy tops, and relied on my jeans to get me through the heat with as little suffering as possible, but today I bought several skirts and dresses. In case you were wondering, I haven't mentioned shorts because I abhor them, and most shorts are sold with a 1" or 2" inseam, which doesn't look good on anyone, especially not on a short, muscular girl. Getting back on track, I decided to buy myself dresses and skirts, have become marginally more demure, and have tried to sacrifice of myself for the good of the people around me. It is an interesting change, to be sure.

Another factor in pushing me to write this is the recommendation of one of my friends that I listen to Josh Turner, a country singer whom she loves. I was only persuaded to acquiesce because she said he was a trained singer, and we share an interminable love of Basses. I took the plunge a few days ago, and I must say that I was pleasantly surprised. Turner is a good singer with the kind of low notes that send shivers down my spine, and his music is good with good messages. He writes about God, love (he uses his wife in his music videos), and whatever else a country musician is wont to write about. What struck me about his songs, as has happened with many other country singers, is that he reinforces traditional gender roles. He doesn't advocate women being uneducated, barefoot, pregnant and in the kitchen, but he definitely asserts his role as a man while maintaining a touching tenderness when it comes to God and his wife.

It certainly doesn't hurt that Josh Turner is a good looking man, but I find that I like the more traditional way he portrays gender roles*. I can certainly do for myself, and most of the time I prefer to, but the thought of having a man who is willing to sacrifice for, love, and protect me (not to mention write songs and sing them to me), is appealing. What can I say, perhaps it's my feminine sensibilities getting the better of me. Part of that, I suppose, is the receptive element of the feminine personality. Yes, women do characteristically give of themselves in a thousand little ways each day, but they are also pursued by men, and the receivers of their advances, love, and sacrifices. I guess I'm growing into my femininity that I'm open to receiving now.

Obviously, this is the part where I say that my renewed fervor for Christ and His Church has informed my understanding of femininity and helped affect this change in me. And that's true. I'm far from perfect at this, and admittedly I'm far from even being good at it, but I'm still leaps and bounds better than I used to be. I hope that I can remain open to these unexpected life lessons, and especially to new singers if they're as good as Josh Turner is. Of course, I owe all this progress to God, and to all the extraordinary gifts and people He puts in my life to teach me the truths He wants me to know. I can't wait to see what He'll teach me next.

*DISCLAIMER: This is not an endorsement of any negative stereotype of men, women, or country music. It's just refreshing in a world that glorifies promiscuity and mocks traditional families.

Mea Maxima Culpa

One of my favorite religious sisters of all time told me last year that a good way to see how you're doing as a Catholic is to read 1 Corinthians 13, and replace "love" with your name. She said that that's how she gauges how she's doing specifically in her treatment of others, and it gives her a bit of perspective on ways she could do better. I've tried it a few times, and I must say, it's a very humbling experience to start off, "Christina is patien- no she's not... Christina is ki- not really... She is not jeal- who am I kidding here?" I've only done the exercise a few times, mostly because I don't think to do it, but many times because I don't want to face the truth that I likely wouldn't make it past "patient" about 75 or 80% of the time. There is no better reminder of how much you need to improve as a person, especially as a Catholic or other type of Christian, than trying to edit your own name into that chapter.

This was brought to my attention tonight at the Vigil Mass as our Newman Center's chaplain preached to us about speech and its power. Good speech, virtuous speech, carries with it tremendous power. Think of the most moving speech you've ever heard, or a passage from your favorite book, or a line from a movie that you would love to have the chance to say for real one day; these are examples of speech that have the power to make the human soul aspire to the highest imaginable heights. These are the things that make you want to go out and make a difference in the world, to leave it a better place than you found it, and to fulfill that mission you know God destined you for. On the contrary, speech can also have negative power. Think of the last stinging insult you received, a rumor you've heard about yourself, or even editorial remarks you received on a paper at school or a presentation at work; these are things that can not only ruin your day, but can even make you question what you're doing with your life and why you are where you are.

The specific topic of the homily was gossip, which our Newman Center has unfortunately struggled with this year. Our chaplain mentioned that there are many, many references in the Bible to the effects of malicious speech, and that it is strongly condemned in all of them. He specifically mentioned the third chapter of the letter of St. James, which has extremely intense language dealing with speech. St. James literally says, "If anyone does not fall short in speech, he is a perfect man, able to bridle his whole body also." The impulse to say something can indeed be that strong, and if you don't know that, take it from someone who has often been reviled for her big mouth that controlling one's tongue is much more an exercise in willpower than any sort of physical restraint.

James continues to expand upon the idea of controlling one's tongue, and the power it has when he says, "...the tongue is a small member and has great pretensions. Consider how small a fire can set a huge forest ablaze. The tongue is also a fire. It exists among our members as a world of malice, defiling the whole body and setting the entire course of our lives on fire, itself set on fire by Gehenna." For anyone who thinks that is an exaggeration, consider how fast gossip and rumors spread anywhere. There's a good reason we say it spreads like wildfire, and if we're not careful it can consume our lives. Four years ago this month, I had just begun reconciling with some of my friends after six months because of the widespread rumors that they had started about me. My reputation, which was also being trashed at the local public school, would never quite recover from the blow it was dealt then, although what had been said about me was patently false.

Along this same vein, returning to tonight's homily, our chaplain spoke about how we all have been guilty of using our tongues to tear other people down for our own sakes. He noted the gossip, detraction, and calumny that have been going around the Newman Center, not just about students, but about himself. Rumors which, regardless of whether or not they're true, have chased people away from the Catholic community on campus. People hold us to a high standard because of our declarations of belief in Christ crucified and risen, and in the way He taught his followers to live. We call ourselves the city on the hill, but our light is the fire of malicious gossip which has consumed us. He told us, though it should have gone without saying, that this is unacceptable. He took responsibility as the leader of the Newman Center, but did not spare us from remembering our rightful share in the blame for, "...bless[ing] the Lord and Father, and with it [the tongue]... curs[ing] human beings who are made in the likeness of God."

In his discussion of gossip and slander, one of the most shocking things I'd never considered was the statement that gossiping about or slandering a priest is to do the same to Christ Himself. The priest being the alter Christus, this makes perfect sense. I don't know about anyone else in the room, but I was immediately overcome with immense shame for all the times I knew I had disrespected, gossipped about, or slandered a priest. It was a hard pill to swallow, and I hope and pray God that it will make me stop and think before I ever do it again, thoughtlessly as I have done it in the past.

It was a tough homily to hear, even though I was already well aware of all that had been going on to cause our chaplain to preach on the topic. It was a ringing "J'accuse!" from which almost nobody I know of was exempt, and from which no one who hears it tomorrow night will be able to escape his or her share in the guilt. Though it is excruciatingly difficult to accept, I do not want to run from my guilt. I want to take it upon myself and acknowledge that I have been as guilty as any other guilty party in these affairs. It humiliates me to realize that I would never dream of attempting the 1 Corinthians 13 test on myself now, because it would only serve to make me laugh out loud to know how completely I have failed it, and then cry to realize that I'm still celebrating Christ's triumph over the agonizing death He suffered to save me from these sins He knew I'd commit.

However, there is some good news to be had. Namely, that like Christ and in Him I can triumph over my sins, and so can everyone else who has ever partaken of them. In fact, if one can say this about any sin, these have had fortuitous timing. Tomorrow is Divine Mercy Sunday, and anyone who attends Mass tonight for the vigil or tomorrow may gain a plenary indulgence by confessing, receiving the Eucharist, and praying for the Pope within the coming week. I will most certainly avail myself of the opportunity to gain this indulgence, and I hope that everyone reading this blog (especially those who have committed the sins I mention herein) will do so, as well. Normally I try to find someone else to apply plenary indulgences to, since I cannot imagine a nicer surprise than being sprung from purgatory to heaven a little early, but I think this time I will apply it to myself in the hope that considering it necessary will be enough to make me rethink doing this again.

At the end of the verses in which St. James deals with the sins men commit with their tongues and the consequences of those sins, he reminds us that what he has said need not be so. We can change, and indeed we must if we intend to stop committing these sins. He asks, "Does a spring gush forth from the same opening both pure and brackish water? Can a fig tree, my brothers, produce olives, or a grapevine figs? Neither can salt water yield fresh." In short, we cannot expect to produce different fruits if we do not change our fundamental nature in order to do so. Fortunately, it is not so hard for us to hold our tongues as it is for a fig tree to become an olive plant or a grapevine to become a fig tree. With God's mercy and grace we can achieve anything, and there will never be a better time than now to try.

I Will Give You Rest

On Easter Sunday, one of my friends approached me and mentioned how much he liked this blog (because clearly, he's insane), and asked me if I would give him a shout out in my next post. I informed him that before I gave him a shout out, he would have to do something worth writing about, and because I'm mentioning him now, he obviously has. But before I tell you what he did, let me back up and tell you why what he did was necessary, and relate it to God, because that's what I do.

Allow me to start off by saying that I'm a very sympathetic person. If someone I love is hurt in some way, I feel that very acutely, especially if there's nothing I can do to help. I'm not good at sitting around and watching other people suffer. Most people aren't, I suspect. Ever since I realized I could help other people out of pickles, jams, and "situations", I've been doing it like it's going out of style. Basically, if I can help you, I will do everything in my power to help you.

This is the situation I find myself in today. Someone I love is hurt, and I can't help this person, and so I get worried and anxious. My first instinct was to take the situation to prayer, but after that, I realized my power to do anything was just about spent. However, this creates another dilemma: Now that I've taken the issue to God, how much do I trust Him to help? I've mentioned before that I have a hard time trusting God to help, especially in situations where I'm powerless to do anything, and today was no different. I practically shouted at God (in my head) in Adoration that He needed to do something, that He could not possibly allow this situation to play out according to my worst fears (it's funny how selfish a person can get when they talk to God).

When I left Adoration, I walked into the Newman Center's parlor and sat down with the friend getting the shout out. He saw me flipping out before I entered Adoration, and could see that things were not better now that I had gotten out. As I sat down on a couch, he looked at me and said, "Do you want to talk about it?" I proceeded to cry and flail and make my best fish-desperately-gasping-for-breath faces as I found the words to even begin to voice what was wrong. Once I did, he sat there as I angrily went on and on about how I came to the Newman Center for Jesus Christ. Not pettiness, not drama, not sarcasm, cruelty, or any of the garbage that has lately afflicted it, just Jesus.

I ranted and ranted until I was more or less spent from the effort, and he just sat there and listened to me tell him how hard it would be for me to trust God to fix the situation. And then he listened to me argue with myself and quote half of the New Testament. To myself. Then he amused me by making me guess all the flavors of jellybeans he was eating, chastised me like my mother once did when I made a face at a gross one, and allowed me to calm down. He didn't try to fix the situation or advise me, he just listened to what I had to say. I think it was the first time anyone has ever done that for me. He did ask if he could do anything, but when I told him no, he accepted that graciously.

I went back to my dorm shortly thereafter, and occupied myself with ironing and listening to music. I happened to come across one of about half a dozen praise and worship songs on my iPod, and it was Matt Maher's rendition of one of my favorite hymns from my youth, "Come To The Water". The hymn, for those who don't know it, is partially based on Matthew 28:11, "Come to me, all you who labor and are burdened, and I will give you rest." About this time last year, I was stressing out about similar situations that I had absolutely no control over, and in Confession, the penance I was given was to meditate on that verse. God was telling me that I could trust Him to take care of the situation. He was telling me not to worry because He knows what's going to happen, and He has a plan, a good one, to work things out.

In conclusion, I have no idea what the point of this post was. Maybe it's that I'm learning to trust God, ever so slowly. Maybe it's that I have good friends. Maybe it's that jellybeans make everything better. Or maybe God was using all of those things as a perfect storm to give my friend the shout out he wanted. I suppose I'll have to wait for Him to flesh this thing out so I can see.

I Know Only That He Leads Me

Here's the guest post I promised! Hope you like it!

“Ich weiß nicht, wohin Gott mich führt. Ich weiß nur, daß er mich führt.”

It was a hot August day on the Kahlenberg, high above the Vienna Woods, and I, newly minted college graduate in a buff-colored college shirt, had lost the trail somewhere in the forest. Perhaps Austria’s most charming Catholic tradition is the ubiquity of trail-side shrines and crucifixes, sometimes dedicated by local families or to the intercession of beloved saint. St. Florian is a perpetual favorite. They often have Gospel verses or poetry entreating the hiker to keep going. Hiking in the Alps is hard work! I sat down on a rock opposite a rough hewn wooden crucifix, dressed with summer flowers. Taking gulps from my water bottle, I ruminated on the incongruousness of the delicate white blossoms and the bloodied head of Christ on which some passing hiker had lain them. I looked into His face. He was thirsty too. There was a sun-bleached laminated paper pinned to the bottom of the Cross which read in faded blue ink: “Ich weiß nicht, wohin Gott mich führt. Ich weiß nur, daß er mich führt.” I don’t know where God leads me. I know only that he leads me. I chuckled to myself. I was lost too, and couldn’t find the red-white-red blazes on the trees that would lead me back to the right trail.

When I got back to my apartment at the end of the day I wrote those words, floating just below the surface of my thoughts all day, on a little sheet of paper and pinned them to the bulletin board above my desk. As the weeks passed, I often looked up at the note on the bulletin board and thought of that day on the Kahlenberg. I had worked so hard to get back to Vienna after an amazing study-abroad experience the year before, I had actually managed to get a job there, and I was back in my favorite place on Earth, ready for the Opera and the waltz balls and the fin-de-siecle cafes. But as the days passed, and the initial excitement receded, something felt off. The cafes were boring, the language tiresome, and the loneliness overpowering. Trouble negotiating with my employer about pay and other arrangements left me feeling angry and abandoned. But in my heart, I knew that was not the root problem. I had to admit that something about it was totally, sickeningly, and deeply wrong.

I don’t know where God leads me. I know only that he leads me. I began to wonder-- was I really on God’s path? Could I see where He was leading me? Had I really considered His will before I ended up in Vienna again? Did I have the faith to believe that He was leading me? I lay in the grass in the Volksgarten and stared at the sky and pondered. I stayed up all night talking to friends and family at home on Skype. I spent many hours praying in beautiful old churches, whose cold stone walls and gilt altarpieces and flickering candles echoed centuries of fervent whispers. It’s never easy to admit that maybe you were wrong about yourself and what you assumed was the obvious choice for you. It’s crushing to admit you just don’t know. As I boarded the plane to leave Vienna, I saw the red-white-red pattern emblazoned on the wing of the Austrian Airlines jet.

We often hear about the essential and unending task of discerning God’s vocation for us. God has not only given us life; he’s also given us the ability to make choices-- the ability to say “yes” to His will. If we know God doesn’t want us to steal, we won’t steal, and if we know God wants us to come to Mass every Sunday, we’ll be there. But what happens when the question is, “what does God want me to do with my life?”

Graduating from college brings a sudden terrifying urgency to the “what do I want to be when I grow up?” question. It is difficult and confusing for everyone. But we as Catholics have an ace up our sleeves-- our understanding that everybody in life has a unique and special vocation. Learning about your vocation in life influences how you will approach a job, a family, and serving God. They are all related.

I think we often assume we have a sufficient understanding of our vocation if we have discerned whether we are eventually destined for marriage or religious life. That’s clearly a very important piece of the puzzle, but in most cases that doesn’t necessarily help you figure out what happens on the day after Graduation Day. I remember feeling almost envious of some of my friends who entered the seminary after graduation because “they had it all figured out.” Aside from the fact that my friends’ discernment process certainly continued intensely after they entered the seminary, this argument is weak because it relieves the lay-person of an equally important responsibility to discern how God’s will affects him or her in a less obvious way. If you graduate like me, with a wonderful degree and lots of knowledge, but little understanding of how that translates into a job and the next step, start by letting go of your own assumptions and humbly asking God what He wants.

I think the number one mistake I made was thinking that something would just fall into place-- I worked hard in college and got good grades, so if God had a plan, he would make it obvious. We spend our lives from birth until the end of college on various clearly demarcated tracks, so why should we expect “real life” to be different? But God’s plans inevitably involve making choices, not simply following a sequence. God offers, but he never forces. I think if we start by following Our Lady’s example, we’re on the right path-- “Be it done unto me according to Thy will.” How has saying “yes” to God helped you get where you are today, and how can you keep saying “yes” to Him?

Think about your academic career-- Maybe you picked a major because it interested you, or because you were good at it. Saying “yes” to God means accepting your strengths and your weaknesses. God didn’t create all of us to be marketing assistants or paralegals. That’s not a bad thing. But it does means you probably shouldn’t apply to every single job posting you can find. Practically speaking, it’s too time-consuming and emotionally draining to apply to jobs you aren’t actually interested in. You are likely to feel exhausted and discouraged if you apply to dozens of “cookie-cutter” junior analyst jobs and never hear back from any of them, even if you didn’t really want those jobs anyway. Focus your efforts more on things you would actually want to do. Don’t assume you are setting your standards too high or being selfish. Every career field has an entry level, though you may need to do more research to find it. In mulling your options you might consider, “Why would God want me to do this work?” or “how will I use what God has given me to do this?” If you can’t answer those questions, keep looking.

In this economy there are many scams and many jobs designed to exploit desperate young job seekers. I’ve seen them, and even interviewed for some of them. But we have to remember that God gave each of us a vocation and we should never have to feel like “maybe this is the best I can get” or “I guess I deserve this for studying Dramatic Literature.” God’s plan isn’t necessarily the easy choice. This is the same God who asks us to take up our cross and follow Him! That doesn’t mean that things will work out immediately, of course. For things to work out, you need to define what “working out” means for you. But if that means you have to live at home (or with five roommates) and work in a coffee shop because it’s giving you the resources to keep looking for what’s truly right for you, then swallow your pride and do it. Failure is only giving up and assuming you can’t come to know some part of what God has intended for you. If you believe that God has a plan for you, and that God’s plan is the best plan, it’s definitely worth the time to think about it.

Most important decisions in life are complicated, but I’ve found that getting in the direction of an answer usually begins with simple “yes-or-no” questions. For instance: Do I feel called to Marriage? If yes, am I open to children? If yes, how will having a family impact the career fields I should consider? Or maybe: Am I willing to work unlimited hours for a job, even one I like? If no, what career tracks can I automatically disqualify? Most importantly, “All other things being equal, if I could do whatever I wanted, what would I find most satisfying?”

Shortly before I left Vienna, the director of the Institute where I was working took me out to lunch. He asked me, “What will you do when you go home?” and I didn’t have any idea. He asked me what I had studied in school, and I carried on for awhile with enthusiasm about early modern warfare and how interesting I thought it was. I jokingly remarked, “If being a professor wasn’t so impractical, that would be my dream job.” He smiled and told me that he felt the same way when he decided to undertake a PhD in musicology (extra credit points if you know what that is!). Now he’s married, has a son, conducts lectures around the world, and runs a study-abroad institute. “If you can identify what you want, you will find a way,” he said with a smile, “But I suspect you already know what you should be doing.”

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In September I’ll be attending the University of Saskatchewan to pursue a fully funded Master of Arts degree in 18th century British naval history.

The Beautiful, Difficult Truth

Happy Holy Week, everyone! This time last year, I was dreaming up half a dozen reflections for each of the days of Holy Week, and while I considered doing that again this year, I have decided not to. However, you should all be very excited because there is going to be a guest post soon from one of my friends who graduated last year from the same university I currently attend. She will be addressing the issue of discerning God's will for your life in areas that are not necessarily your vocation (i.e. priesthood, religious life, married life). It will be terrific, and I hope you'll look forward to it as much as I am now.

Today I would like to address difficult truths. I will mainly be talking about those truths that are difficult for me, but I want to urge you to consider which truths are difficult for you. For me, as you might have read before, they pertain to my appearance, my voice, and the way others perceive me. They sound shallow, I admit, but are nevertheless important to me. Having never heard growing up that I was pretty, never received any encouragement to be feminine, and being told that I did not have a pleasant singing voice, I had no cause to believe any of that when those things began to matter to me as a young woman.

I have been discussing these issues with my spiritual director over the past few months within a larger context, as I've been slowly coming out of my spiritual dryness and looking to other spiritual matters. In the midst of our discussions, I had mentioned a young man I thought there might have been potential with, and my spiritual director encouraged me to cautiously and prudently look into the matter more. Over that time, I noticed that this young man was paying me compliments, and not just the ones I'm used to receiving. I hear remarks about my intelligence, public reading/speaking, athleticism, etc. often enough that I believe those things about myself, but suddenly I was also being told that I'm pretty, feminine, and have a nice singing voice. Unfortunately for my emotional chastity, these compliments contributed to my feelings for him, though he wasn't giving me any encouragement.

When I told my spiritual director this, he remarked that it did not seem that my feelings were being reciprocated, but quickly followed up with a comment that I was missing something much more important. If indeed this young man did not like me back, that gave his compliments a great deal more weight, because he wasn't saying them to butter me up, he was saying them because he genuinely believed them to be true. I was a little disappointed to be honest, but when I began to think about what my spiritual director had said and mulled over the other compliments I had received from the men in my life, I realized he was right.

I was watching a clip from the movie Tangled that night, and having just had its Catholic imagery explained to me earlier in the day, a much clearer insight into the situation was made known to me. As Rapunzel is sitting in a boat with her beau, she sees hundreds of lanterns floating down around her and becomes delighted because she has wanted to see them up close her entire life. Something drew her to them, even when she was being kept in her tower by the witch who she was raised to call "Mother", but she could never explain what. To be in the middle of them finally was an ecstatic experience, though she never understood they were always meant for her, launched by her parents (the king and queen) each year on her birthday to call her back to them.

This minor digression is only to illustrate more fully what God was making known to me. He had always been trying to convince me of the difficult truths that I was pretty, feminine, and had a nice voice, but I never knew His attempts for what they were. Suddenly I was surrounded by them (or at least, more so than I had ever been), and ecstatic about it, but not realizing that it was all for a greater good. Just as Rapunzel never knew the lanterns she loved were meant to call her home to the love and happiness of her family, so I had not realized that the compliments, which came from a few men I love and respect, were God's way of opening my eyes to truths I never knew. In the same way that Rapunzel's beau could not have known that he was bringing her back home to her mother and father (symbols, I was told, of God the Father and Mary), neither could the men who complimented me have known that they were speaking to me for God, the only one who knew the true value of the words.

God was whispering to me for a long time the difficult truths I didn't believe, but longed to hear. I wanted more than anything to hear and believe those things, but couldn't understand their significance from a distance, so God used someone to move me closer to Him so I could hear His whispers. Though there is no beau in my boat currently, that's fine. I've found something better, something more worth the wait than any relationship. It's not every day that the One who means the most to you tells you all the difficult things you long to hear most about yourself. I'm content to be where I am, and I look forward to discovering how much deeper my understanding of God's love (hopefully) becomes this week, having had a much more personal experience of it so recently. It is no wonder to me that God chose to tell me these difficult truths, but it will never cease being a wonder that He knows me so much better than I do, that He would choose to do so in such a moving and beautiful way. And it is a wonder to me that I ever doubted His love.

In case anyone is interested, the scene I talk about from Tangled is in the song "I See the Light".